Astride
by Acteon Carolsfeld
Summary: On the cusp of victory, Megatron walks amongst the wreckage. As always, beside him, is Starscream.


Disclaimer: I do not own TFP. Just playing with its characters. :)

**Warning**: Violence; suggestion of past character death; corpses; hints of MegaStar; flashbacks

Continuity: TFP, right at the beginning of season 3

* * *

Astride

* * *

"Come, Starscream. Take a walk with me."

"A walk, master?"

"Yes." A pause. "I tire of the festivities, but the troops have been in dire need of a reason for celebration." A look lingered, before flickering to the horizon. "Let them have the night. We, my second, will walk."

* * *

"_Come, Seeker. Walk with me._"

That had been vorns ago, outside a grimy little bar deep in the bowels of Kaon.

"_Walk?_" Starscream had sneered, knee-deep his own vomit. "_Do I _look_ like I'm built to _walk_ to you?_" The half-processed highgrade shimmered in the dark, its rancid odor irritating the lithe flier's intakes.

There had been only one light, dangling from a wire, swaying in the humid night air as the pipes spat steam. It had sputtered, casting its feeble glow on the sharp corners of the scarred frame of the gladiator.

"_No._" Back then, there had been smiles. "_But are you really going to allow your frame-type alone to define your every purpose?_"

Starscream had pursed his lips. The thin, pointed claws clutching the stained alley wall had tightened, digging its dips into the flaking layer of paint.

He averted his optics when the burn became too much.

There had been someone else who'd once said the same thing, and back then, outside the tattered backdoor of a little bar where mechs wept in highgrade, the Seeker had still felt the spark-deep sting of loss.

"_Yeah,_" Starscream kept his helm lowered, and pulled himself upright on shaky peds. "_No, I meant—_" A forced reset of vocalizer. "_I meant yeah, yes._" A shuddering intake. "_I'll take that walk._"

* * *

"Of course, my liege."

* * *

"_Starscream, there you are!_"

"_Highgrade does not become you, Herald of the New Age._"

Laughter, and a hard clap that made the Seeker stumble forward.

"_Enough of that, you're almost as bad as Orion._"

"_I do aim to please._"

A shake of helm that seemed to disorientate the gladiator. The grin never faded though, the light of his optics bright as the first day Starscream had heard the revolutionary speak of his vision for their home.

"_Come._"

"_To where?_"

"_Anywhere! A walk._"

"_You can't even _crawl_ in a straight line right now, Megatronus._"

"_I don't need to._" Megatronus draped an arm over the Seeker's shoulders, "_The point of a walk is not going in a straight line, Starscream._"

* * *

They landed on the cusp of the human settlement, a town once named "Jasper" by the local natives. It laid in ruins now, crumbled walls and charred vehicles covered in a film of sand swept by the wind. The desert had begun to creep in, eager to reclaim its territory. Trickles of smoke rose in the distance, slanted, fading into the night sky, where ash hid the stars.

The primitive communications network the humans used boasted a successful evacuation. It turned a blind eye on those whom no one would miss. Their bodies were blackened lumps of flesh on the sides of the road, sockets sunken and empty - the birds had their stomachs full. Megatron paid them no mind, and strode past the rows of tiny houses, most of which had already been trampled to the ground, little shelters of matches in face of canon blasts of an alien war.

* * *

"…_You look weary, Megatronus._"

No answer.

The shattered window cast the broad back of the ex-gladiator in shadows, illuminating only the outline of his silhouette.

"_You should be proud._" Starscream looked past the hulking form, at the view of the city dotted by flames, its only source of light. "_You army has driven the enemy back. Victory is ours at the end of this battle._" The Seeker did not move to stand beside the warlord, instead keeping several paces back. "_Why not celebrate with the troops? Don't tell me you've decided _now_ of all time that you are better than us._"

The words were spoken with a hint of humour, but the joke fell flat. Starscream huffed in laughter as though it hadn't, the spread of his lips more of a grimace as he swallowed the sore stab to his pride. It tasted like stale highgrade, leaving one's glossa more parched with each intake. The Seeker fiddled with his claws, and glanced about the room, where the walls held holo-image projectors that spat sparks, faces on their displays blurring, marring the smiles of a copter-former holding his young in his arms.

Megatronus moved, pushing from his seat. With one brisk heave, he stood, helm almost reaching the ceiling of the chamber. Starscream startled, taking a small step back. The disproportion between the ex-gladiator and the room was disorientating, the massive frame filling all the space with one, simple motion.

"_Starscream, a walk._" The voice was more like a rumble of an engine, deep in the gut, a rasp of exerted gears.

"_Wh-What?_" The Seeker gave his helm a slight shake, wings furling downward.

The warlord did not answer, instead striding toward the window.

"_...Megatronus?_"

The large frame paused, a tensing of motor cables.

"_Megatron. Just Megatron._"

* * *

Starscream followed after his master, peds clicking against the ground. There was a soft breeze, but it smelt of burning organic matter, making the jet's lips curl. The fire _still_ hasn't died down yet? Or perhaps this planet was simply much too flammable. The Seeker offlined his intakes, and recalibrated his coolant distribution subroutine.

Before him, Megatron kept an even pace. His steps were wide, but slow, so the lither flier did not have to skitter to keep up. It was a luxury, a generous allowance on the warlord's part. Seekers were not built for long treks on ped, but strolling was alright, and Starscream enjoyed retaining in the in-born grace of his kin in everything he did.

* * *

Megatron was different from Megatronus.

Megatron did not smile, and his optics smoldered like the smelting pits, steeled with will and searing with rage.

Hierarchy was being established. Ranks were formed. Those who protested against the change suffered a brutal decapitation. When the sixth helm-less frame was strung up for all to see, no one had dared to say another word. They chose instead to stare at the ground, away from the gaping, sparkless chassis pried open by ruthless hands.

Starscream was perhaps the only one who still sent them glances. When the hallway began to stink of rot and rust, the Seeker instructed the drones to take them down, and commanded that the parts be melted and recycled.

Megatron never mentioned it. The only indication that he knew the doing was Starscream's had been a slight halt in his steps as they passed that wall. The Seeker had held his intakes, prepared for the blow that was surely kliks to come. However, the ex-gladiator said nothing, instead turning his helm and continuing on his way.

His pacing slowed, though, until his Air Commander could easily keep up without hopping on his heeled peds. Starscream didn't thank him for the gesture either. They shared no words, silent as they made their way to the throne room of the base.

* * *

There was a dead rodent behind a flame-bitten shrub. Most of its guts had spilled onto the yellowing grass, and insects crawled over it, attracted by the undoubtedly putrid scent. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't a rodent, but a…common house pet amongst the humans, a non-sentient species. There was a collar around its neck, little more than a wrinkled, faded strap of cord. Its edges were singed, and there was a bell attached to it, though it had long ago been melted shut, disfigured like the animal's face.

Starscream scoffed, and turned away. Muttering about the filth contaminating their new home, he resumed his walk, and jolted to a stop when he noticed his master looking at him. The warlord had paused in his steps, arms crossed around his back and hands loosely held. The Seeker's intakes spluttered into activation, and he scrambled for words of apology, hasty to lessen the repercussions of his mistake in making his lord and master—

…wait.

For him.

Megatron…had stopped.

And he was waiting for him.

Starscream blinked. Surprise overtook his desperate need for a good excuse. He stood on his spot, beside the dying shrub hiding the animal corpse, and gaped at the ex-gladiator, who was still, without a word, looking at him.

* * *

"_I tire of your treachery, Starscream._"

Starscream cradled his broken arm close to his chassis, and hid his faceplate from the tyrant's view.

"_You gain nothing from this. _Why_ do you continue to defy me?_"

Vents wheezing, the Seeker suppressed a shiver, and wiped at his cheekplates. The gesture only smeared a big mess of energon and coolant, which stung his optics, prompting a new wave of tears to rise forth.

"_I defy you because you've gone _mad_, mad with _power_, _obsessed_ as you are with that—that blasted librarian turned Prime!_" The Air Commander hissed, voice scratchy with static as his vocalizer throbbed. "_You no longer have _any_ regard for us. You fight this war for your own personal gratification…not for the home and the future you have promised—no, _sworn_, to _always_ uphold as our unified goal!_

"_We are _losing_, Megatron. We have already bled our planet dry of all life and hope for revival. What in the pits do we have left _now_? Give me _one good reason_ I should continue to give _one slag_ about your greed-infested _slagheap_ of an empire!_"

Instead of a strike or a fusion canon blast through the spark, Megatron stayed silent, pensive. Slowly, the rigidity in his posture eased, until, with a quiet breath through his vents, he leaned back, and unfurled his fists.

"_Don't play me a fool_," He said, and his lips tilted upward by a slight degree. "_Don't lie about your desire for personal gains, Starscream. You are just as greedy as the rest of us._"

Starscream pressed his lips together, and curled further on the floor. That was not a lie. He _did_ enjoy having hundreds under his command, that authority, that control, a rush of sweet euphoria much like that of soaring and ruling the wind.

Megatron did not deny any of the Seeker's barbed words. He had not answered any questions. However, one thing was clear:

They no longer had the same goals. The foundation that had once been firm beneath their peds had then begun to crumble.

"…_On your peds, Air Commander. I want you repaired and ready for our next battle_."

The Seeker grumbled under his breath, but did as was told, using the wall as leverage as he laboured to stand on his feet.

Megatron waited. He did not hurry the smaller flier. When the lieutenant finally found enough strength in his limbs to stay upright, the warlord merely nodded, and inclined toward the door.

"_I will walk you to the medbay._" The tyrant said.

He did not explain, not that he needed to.

Starscream never asked.

* * *

"Master—"

"You are back where you belong, Starscream." Megatron interrupted. "Do not stray from me again." He kept their gazes locked, but a moment later, he glanced away. "This world is infested. There is much to do before it gains its worth to become truly ours." On the horizon, the clouds flashed. Starscream was momentarily distracted, reminded as he was of old friends long lost by the bright flicker of light and the following deep rumble of thunder.

"I don't intend to stray anymore, my lord." He replied, voice a low murmur. "I have found my place, one that is enough for me."

Megatron turned, once again looking at the Seeker. This time, it was smaller flier who changed the direction of his gaze, instead focusing on the clouds, which had begun to rain.

"…Starscream, come."

The Air Commander turned to face the ex-gladiator.

Megatron beckoned, and, a little unsure, the Seeker ventured forward, slowing to a stop one step behind his master. The warlord did not speak. He did not move. He continued to wait, optics searching on the slimmer mech's faceplate, lips closed but not pressed, posture firm yet at ease.

Starscream stared. He shuffled on his peds. His wings flicked, and tensed to a high arc on his back when he finally realized what his company was waiting for. His optics widened. His lips fell apart. His cheekplates began to heat, so he jerked his helm down, a splutter of a syllable stumbling through his vocalizer.

However, tentatively, he extended a slender leg.

The other one followed, until he stood, a flustered pair of wings, right beside the mech he has called "lord and master" for vorns lost count.

Silence, interspersed by the soft rustling of rain.

Starscream kept his vision on the leaf-less trees.

"…Mas—"

"No."

The Seeker jolted, darting looks below the curve of his brows.

The warlord did not meet his glances.

"Megatron." He merely said, hands still clasped behind him, optics as vivid as his second has always known them. "Just Megatron."

"…Megatron…"

Starscream repeated.

He let out a chuckle.

He straightened as they took their first steps together in eons, a late stroll through the ruins of a ravaged city they now ruled.

A walk.

Of course.

It was just a walk.

* * *

**Notes:** Written for a prompt for a drabble-run on Tumblr. I kinda like this one, so I've decided to post it here as well.

Feedback would be awesome. Thank you! :)


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